


Two in the Morning

by DistractionReaction



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty is quiet and understanding, Cuddling, Fluff, For Ngozi Ukazu's Birthday!, Gen, Gift Fic, Jack Zimmermann is skittish and embaressed, M/M, No really this is mostly just fluff, Prompt Fill, Shitty makes good life choices, and Ransom and Holster are louder than they should be first thing in the morning, lots and lots of cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractionReaction/pseuds/DistractionReaction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There’s something strained about Jack’s tone that cuts Eric off short. He sits straight up in bed, hand already scrambling for the light switch. “Good lord you sound like hell. Let me-”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No!” Jack’s voice cracks and Eric freezes mid motion, eyeing the shadow-cast figure carefully. “Just…just leave it off.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Alright.” He drawls out, slowly removing his hand from where it’s poised at the switch. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>For a moment nothing is said between them, then Jack clears his throat and even with the blaring back-light Eric can see the way his shoulders are hunched up to his ears. “Can I…can I come in?” </i>
</p><p>---</p><p>Bitty gets woken up at some obscene hour in the morning, Jack doesn't want to talk about it, and none of the Haus know how to knock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a (belated) birthday fic for Ngozi Ukazu, creator of the fantastic webcomic "Check, Please!" 
> 
> As per request, Jack and Bitty cuddle. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy it!

There is no good reason his bedroom door should be creaking open at the ungodly hour of two in the morning and Eric already has his hands wrapped around the lamp on his bedside table before the figure hovering in the brightly lit hallway comes into focus. 

“Sweet gravy on a biscuit Jack-” Now, he might not have the strongest constitution in the world but Eric’s never considered himself easy to spook, yet his heart is jack-hammering in his chest so loud he’s pretty sure the whole damned Haus can hear it. “You just about gave me a stroke! Do you have any idea what time-”

“ _Bittle._ ” 

There’s something strained about Jack’s tone that cuts Eric off short. He sits straight up in bed, hand already scrambling for the light switch. “Good lord you sound like hell. Let me-”

“ _No!_ ” Jack’s voice cracks and Eric freezes mid motion, eyeing the shadow-cast figure carefully. “Just…just leave it off.” 

“Alright.” He drawls out, slowly removing his hand from where it’s poised at the switch. 

For a moment nothing is said between them, then Jack clears his throat and even with the blaring back-light Eric can see the way his shoulders are hunched up to his ears. “Can I…can I come in?” 

Now that…that he was not expecting. 

“Well, ‘course.” He sits up further in bed, eyebrows shooting up his forehead when Jack inches into the room, easing the door shut behind him. 

It takes the senior a moment to edge his way over towards the bed and Eric is pretty damned sure it’s not ‘cause it’s pitch black in the room. So he just hedges his bets and keeps his mouth shut, squinting through the dark at the approaching shadow. 

There’s a part of him that knows he’s treating Jack like a spooked horse, but hell, he can practically hear the way the Canadian prodigies’ teeth are grinding. 

Only once Jack reaches the mattress, hovering awkwardly not ten inches from his bedside, does Eric finally speak up. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Silence meets him in answer and he lets out a tired sigh, the sound lacking any real venom. “You don’t have to tell me, ‘cause I’m not gonna press.” 

When Jack remains there, standing in his silent vigil, Eric scoots over and folds the sheets down, patting his side in a clear invitation. “Come on now, no need to be shy.”

“You don’t have to.” Jack is edging forward even as the words leave his mouth, but his tone is dripping with hesitance. “I mean, I can go-”

“For the love of,” Eric gives the mattress another firm smack, “Jack Laurent Zimmermann get your butt down here. It is an unholy hour in the morning and we both need our sleep.” 

That seems to quell any lingering arguments and soon the bed is creaking under added weight. While Jack settles in Eric drags the blankets back up, tucking them around the senior before he has the chance to complain. “There, now was that so hard?” 

There’s no answer, so Bittle just sinks back down against the spare pillow with a sigh. “Get some rest Jack.” 

He wraps himself up into the sheets once more and lets his eyes drift closed. 

Only they don’t stay that way for long…because he can practically hear the gears grinding in Jack’s head and it’s frightfully difficult to ignore. 

He bides his time, waiting to see if the senior settles on his own, but before long he loses his patience for that too. 

“You think far too loud, you know that right?” 

Jack seems to do a full body cringe, shifting against the mattress and tugging the blankets up all the way to his chin. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just stayed in my room.” 

“Oh hush you.” Eric is not short tempered man, but even a saint could find their patience stretched thin by Zimmermann’s tight lipped, solitary brooding. “Come here.” 

He takes the initiative and grabs Jack by his shoulders, rolling him over until they are face to face. The man is not small, but he moves with the motion so easily that Bittle almost lets out a small noise of surprise. He bites down on the shock and ignores the hot flush that spreads across his cheeks, giving his head a sharp shake. 

Now’s not the time for gettin’ flustered. 

With a careful tug he coaxes the senior forward so that his face is pressed into his chest. Jack’s forehead rests comfortably against his collar, his breath warm even through the fabric of Eric’s sleep shirt. 

Surprisingly Jack doesn’t object, just lets himself be dragged close without so much as a groan. Eric keeps a hold on him, drawing one arm up to curl in his hair. He uses his thumb to rub soothing circles against the older man’s scalp and waits. 

It takes about a minute before Jack gathers up enough courage to actually wrap his arms around Bittle’s waist in turn, squeezing around his middle with a heavy, winded sigh. He’s shaking a bit, and Eric’s just dying to ask him what happened, but he doesn’t. Instead he just drops his hand down lower, squeezing at the back of Jack’s neck in what he hopes to be a comforting manner. 

“M’sorry.” 

The word is mumbled against Eric’s collar bone and he just snorts out a quiet, “Don’t be.”

After some shifting they get comfortable; the top of Jack’s head is tucked under his chin, Eric’s free arm coming around to drape across the wide expanse of his back. When Jack can’t seem to figure out what to do with his legs Eric just hums and eases a knee between them. Jack seems to tense for a moment, before he relaxes and hitches one leg up further, draping it over Bittle in a full body embrace. 

It’s pretty intimate, and Eric’s fairly sure he should be feeling at least a _little_ bit uncomfortable, but really he can’t bring himself to care.

Jack is a solid line of heat against his front; breath evening out and heart beat steady where it drums against Eric’s sternum. He stops shaking and just curls his arms tighter around the smaller man, fingers spread out to span across Bittle’s back. 

He’s not exactly accustomed to being used as a human body-pillow, but all the tension has seeped out of Jack’s frame and quite frankly that’s good enough for him. 

He lets his eyes drift shut, taking in the musky scent of Jack’s surprisingly soft mop of cropped hair and the snug grip of his arms wrapped around his waist. As much as he wants to scold himself for it, because he’s the one who’s supposed to be doing the comforting here, Jack makes him feel warm and safe. He can’t help but let his body relax into the hold, tucking his chin down against the crown of Zimmermann’s head. 

Sleep just about drags him back under when a quiet voice rumbles against his chest. “ _Eric_?” 

The uncharacteristic use of his first name startles him out of the lull he’d drifted into and he blinks down at the short black locks that tickle his chin. “Yeah Jack?” 

“Thanks.” 

The word slips out like a hard gust of relief and Bittle can’t help but grin. 

“ _Anytime_.” 

\---

They both sleep in. 

Shitty finds them first when Bittle fails to show up in the kitchen for his famous Sunday morning brunch. They’re tangled up in the bed sheets, Jack having shifted until Eric was splayed out over top of him, nose tucked into the crook of his neck. Wisely, Shitty then carefully and silently backs out the way he came. 

Ransom and Holster stumble their way into the room only minutes later, griping loudly about a lack of food before catching sight of them on the bed. They both stir at that, Eric flushing red and Jack cursing loudly even as the pair back pedal out into the hall. They start hollering about socks on door handles and roommate bro-codes before Zimmermann grabs for the nearest item (“Jack you put that DVD down! Meryl Streep is a national treasure and if you dent the packaging on her cinematic masterpiece I swear….oh dear lord!”) and whips it at their heads. 

For all of his annoyance, when Jack finally peels himself out of bed he pauses, dragging Eric up into a bone-crushing hug. He presses their cheeks together and murmurs one last quick “thanks.” 

Eric watches him go and stays there, staring, well after he’s gone. 

His whole room smells like Jack, and really that should put him off; but it’s pleasant and familiar in a way that makes his heart twinge. 

It takes a hesitant knock from Ransom and Holster to finally coax Bittle out of the still warm sheets and into the hallway. They’re sheepish and apologetic when they hand him his copy of _Julie and Julia_ , before hesitantly inquiring into breakfast. 

With a laugh he files away all thoughts of the night before for another time. 

He has Haus duties to attend to, after all. 

**END**


End file.
